The math of it can be addicting, no?
So many hits, so many different places
All somewhere in the world - maybe you know,
Maybe you don't, but somewhere, distant faces
Are watching what you write - even if they
Can't read the language, somehow stumbled there
From links supposed to go another way
They took a moment from their lives to stare
Even without intention, at a page
I placed, I wrote, I made. How can this be?
It is a simple marvel of the age
That I can write and others somewhere see
The private musings other ages kept
In private places, where they, unseen, slept.
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